O, Lord,
I don't sleep so good.
Old wounds, old scars
Just keep on hollering.

Do you mind if I pay you a visit tonight?
The wounds don't ache so much
And the scars don't itch,
When I'm alone with You.

There's such a lot of chuckles
When I think of the many things You did,
And places where Your blessings fell.
Where men said--"It can't be done!"

Remember, Lord,
The Great Depression when all there was
Was nuthin'--no money, no jobs, just nuthin'.
"Twas there You built the hospitals,
And chapels, and ships, and such,
And everyone said, "Praise the Lord!"

Remember the war, Lord,
When men was as scarce as hens' teeth,
And You gave us the cream of the crop,
Outa nowheres.
Ten bases You built
For all the boys and girls in grey,
And blue and brown,
And how they sang so lustily
Their hymns of praise.

And now, Lord, comes inflation!
Our enemies say, "We got them now!"
What can You do? Are You equal
To inflation?
We've flung our last chips on the table,
They're all on You,
And we're confident You're able
To see us through.

Yes, Lord, it's been a wonderful life,
But the best of all is NOW,
Just passing the time of day at night
Alone with You.

--Percy E. Wills